


As the Moon Pulls the Tide

by Lunarflare14



Category: Mass Effect
Genre: Canonical Character Death, Comfort, F/M, Falling In Love, Holding Hands, Lost Love, Memories, Talking, Warrior Angel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-05
Updated: 2012-12-05
Packaged: 2017-11-20 10:18:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,274
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/584293
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lunarflare14/pseuds/Lunarflare14
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thane and Shepard's relationship could be tracked by her orbit around him in those first few conversations. There's something inevitable in the dance. Just as they come together forces pull them apart.</p>
            </blockquote>





	As the Moon Pulls the Tide

When Thane meets her, she is chaos. Her presence has the guards scrambling to get a proper defense going. She is moving too quickly. If he does not hurry, she will reach the target first. He is only a minute or two behind her. She doesn’t kill the target though; she distracts her. Shepard is bold, brilliant in the light of the dawn. When his job is complete he prays for his soul and she waits. When he is done, she tells him of her purpose for finding him—the Collectors. It is a good cause, and he decides to follow her—Cerberus or not.

When she comes to see him that first time, she starts several feet behind him. It’s late, or early depending on whom you ask. He wonders how she knows the drells sleep very little. Maybe she wasn’t counting on him being awake. It’s all pleasantries and ‘get to know my crew’. He can’t say he objects. Life Support is not exactly a bustling corner of the ship. No one passes through unless they’re there for something specific. Then they fiddle with the mechanism behind him and leave. Most of the time he stares into the Black.

But Shepard surprises him with questions. Who do you pray to? It shouldn’t be an odd question to him, but no one has ever asked. Other drell know and everyone else doesn’t really care. She asks about Kalahira, and oceans.

Then she asks about his condition. At length. It is as he expected. She does not ask how it will affect his performance during the mission. Just what is it? Can she help? How long?  He reassures her anyway. He’ll be at one hundred percent and if he is not he will let her know immediately. He doesn’t look at her after that, simply lets her walk out.

The next visit she walks over to the window, facing the core. She says he isn’t like other assassins. When he tells her he was trained since the age of six by the hanar, she seems surprised the hanar have assassins at all.

She seems unhappy about him being trained since he was so young. He hears the disapproval in her voice.  “You were a child. Not an investment.”

Her venom at injustice is endearing. He does better to explain their motives. It led to discussion of the Compact. He senses more disapproval but she remains silent about it. Then she brings up that he is freelance now and the memory hits him too quickly to repress.

“Laser dot trembles on the target's skull. One finger twitch, he dies. Then, the smell of spice on the spring wind. Sunset eyes defiant in the scope. The laser dances away.”

He apologizes and he sees her curious but too polite to pry. Promises to talk about it later.

He wants to talk. He likes how she listens.

The turian watches her. He cannot decide if Garrus is being brotherly or like a fretful lover. Their relationship suggests an intimacy of some kind—not necessarily physical though. When Thane brings it up, Garrus laughs, slapping him on the back. “It doesn’t take a genius to see her favorite colors green.”

The joke is lost to the assassin.

After the last time, she sits across from him at the table. They’ve been on several missions together now. They know each other. She has a quick wit and slow temper. He has seen her pushed too hard by now.  Her resurrection haunts her. Every new recruit brings baggage, and that baggage ends up on Shepard’s shoulders more often than not. These interactions she has with the crew—Grunt in particular— prove his theories about her. Shepard will make a great mother one day. He’s ashamed he did the same, that Kolyat was too much to carry on his own.  All she asks for in return is these talks. That, and that he will follow her to almost certain death.

It doesn’t seem like such a high price.

She asks about solipsism. He explains.

He doesn’t realize that his description of the memories, how vivid the touch and taste of another can be, could be seen as a bit too much information until he says it.

Something like intrigue crosses her features before she speaks again. She asks about the bad memories. About the guilt she seems to believe he has.

He makes it clear he does not have guilt for these things.

She thinks that is an irresponsible approach, which is understandable. Human’s control themselves completely most of the time. Drells being different is hard for them to imagine. The topic doesn’t hold her interest long. She asks what she really wanted to know—about the sunset-colored eyes.

The memory comes up again—the first time he met his wife.  He tells Shepard the story.

Shepard gets up to leave and he confesses he enjoys their chats. He thanks her, that she is the only friend he’s had in a long time.

She says friendship is a start.

Well.

That is interesting.

The next time she sits across from him, he gets up. He wants—no he must tell her about Irikah. About how he met her, how she stood between him and his prey. She was unique, and fearless, and beautiful. He sits back down. He tells Shepard how Irikah surprised him that day, how he hunted her down and begged her forgiveness, then about how she died. It was his fault. He is adamant in how true that is.

He tells her of his body’s vengeance. 

Understanding crosses her features. She is lost in a memory of her own a moment before she agrees.

He confesses he hasn’t spoken of his wife, not to anyone. He didn’t have anyone to tell until now.

“I’m here for you, Thane. Whatever you need.”

The sentence fills him with a warmth he cannot shake. “You are very kind. Thank you for listening, siha.” He hadn’t meant to say that. Siha.

Perhaps that shows just how far gone he already is.

She thinks her translator glitches. Her laugh is a bit nervous.

“Someday I’ll tell you what it means.” He cannot help but smile. She smiles back, realizing he’s being deliberately cryptic.

In the time between then and her next visit he has time to think about what they’ve been through. She so obviously does not trust her current employer. Her hate is evident every time they run another errand for the man. There is no trust there; she is ready for a fight.

He has taken to watching her. In battle she fights with fire and passion. She is good at her work, easily caught up in the rhythm of battle like a dancer is swept up in a song they know by heart. Her body moves with grace and precision. When she slips in her armor she wears it like a woman would wear here favor party dress, relishing in how the material feels on her skin.

She loves what she does, she only hates that it is necessary—that it takes lives. She fights for the day when it will not be.

When Shepard returns to his place in Life Support, she confesses she has been thinking of him. His heart lifts with her words, and he tells her he has been thinking of her as well. He does not tell her that it has been nearly every waking hour since the last time they spoke this way.

She wants to know what siha means and he thinks it best to start at the beginning, rather than the end.

He tells her that by the time they met he had no purpose, he had planned to die. He did not plan on someone else trying to reach the target. He had to get their first.

“You’re alive because I wounded your pride?” Shepard always had a way of making him sound petty.

He tells her of Arashu’s warrior angels, fierce and tenacious. For the first time, she seems genuinely shocked, before her face softens to something almost shy.

“I confess… I have come to care for you. Perhaps I am being foolish. We are very different.”

His words give her confidence and she admits she feels the same. He reaches for her hands, just as she does the same. They meet in the middle and hold them their gently.

Her eyes are blue, blue like the sea.

They have a lot to figure out. He can’t help but look forward to it.

Before they go through the relay, they have time and he is plagued by an old emotion: fear—fear of death. It is a fear of losing the memories he has come to see as precious. The low hum of engine sings softly in the background, eyes of Kalahira’s domain watch his face, the smell of lavender as she passes. Her boots rubber caresses the mouse’s neck, one twist to end the struggle. No. Not today.

He goes to her because he cannot stay away.

“I’m afraid, and it shames me.” He whispers it, even though they are alone. Her hand rests over his, her eyes seeking to connect with his. In all the times he’s watched her, it only occurs to him now that she watched him back. What did she see? When she looked at him?

“Thane…” His name hasn’t sounded so sweet in a very long time. Her mouth forms it so gently, like she might break it. He turns to her because he cannot do anything else. The sound has him moving closer to her, unable to stop. “Is it really death you fear?” He moves in closer. Tonight she smells of fresh linen. No, he fears leaving her. He does not fear his own death, but her living on without him. He fears Kolyat will never find peace. He fears what will become of the world once he is gone. He fears she will forget him. Somehow, that is so much worse than dying. “Be alive with me tonight.”

The kiss is expected. How good it feels, how helpless he is, how unable to stop himself from being swept away, is surprising. It is not like battle sleep where his body acts; it is a reflex of his soul. He has never lost control this way. They make it to the bed and they explore each other. Her skins is soft and smooth to the touch, she radiates heat like a sun. She’s blinding and eager. He takes from her greedily; every kiss, every touch, every thrust.

It is one of the nights that solipsism was made for.

They survive. It is so unexpected that all he can do is praise the gods.

That and take shore leave with his siha. They go to a planet of deserts, just as he wished. They make love on a dune, and they are still finding strange places when Shepard is court marshaled.

Those six months without her are agony. Liara helps them keep in touch, something about keeping love alive. He is grateful, but mere words cannot describe his longing. He ends up on the Citadel, to be closer to his son and the medical facilities. It is five months in that he realizes he hasn’t thought of Irikah since he and Shepard shared that first night. He did not forget, he just didn’t recall them. They seem more abstract now, not filled with the color and crisp clarity that Shepard offers

He longs for Shepard.

A human ends up in his physical therapy that speaks fondly of her. Fondly like an ex-lover.

He wishes he could ask more without blowing his cover. Did she make it off Earth after the attacks? Is she alright? Does she think of him?

But Shepard finds him soon enough, putting his mind at ease. The coughing has become worse and she is concerned. He says he’ll take care of Kaiden, that he wants to do what he can. She kisses him so suddenly; he forgets the rest of his sentence. A joy fills him, and he smiles, despite not wanting her to seem what he will become someday soon. The shame he felt before the Collectors had faded. 

She is eager to make up for lost time. When he tries to explain about the effects of his condition on his performance, Shepard takes his mouth with hers and the words die in his throat and he feels life pulse through his veins.

He had missed her passion, her fire.

When Cerberus attacks he knows he must protect the Council.  He finds the salarian, and the assassin sent to kill them. If he had only been in a little better condition, he could have bested the swordsman easily. It was not to be.

Later he hears that Shepard had hounded the assassins as far as she could.

He fears her path after this. When he dies, which is inevitable now, she will seek revenge. He doesn’t want that for her, but he knows he cannot stop her.

She comes to his side just before the end.

She is beautiful, though sorrow casts a shadow over her. He must pray, he prays for Kalahira to watch over his Siha, for Shepard needed her so much more now. He begs for the goddess to guide her, and when he cannot draw breath, he hears Shepard complete his prayer with his son.

It is the most beautiful thing he ever hears, and the last.

He will await her across the sea, for the tide to bring her to him once more.


End file.
